Miss with a Smile
by GoldenMiniJ-17
Summary: FINALLY! For cheddarsandmeerkatrandomness for Secret Santa! Continuing the scene of Tom and Mary in the nursery with the babies and Mary feels the room is 'too empty'. Canon 3X05 beyond.


Tom moved the animals, trying to keep his daughters attention upon the game, rather than to pull the small blue bow, which was tied a little too tightly, from her hair. The little girl tapped the wooden toy on the floor, staring as her cousin had been moved away.

"Where's Nanny?" Mary asked Tom, rocking George slightly on her lap.

"Gone to collect clothes from laundry. I said I'd stay with them." He answered, stroking Sybbie's hair flat. Her tantrum earlier due to the bow had mussed it, making it knotted. He knew that Nanny would have a time of it combing them out later. Sybbie hated having her hair brushed.

She moved the toy horse back and forth on its wheels, frowning as her father moved some of the toys that she had placed in a line. She decided she'd move the remaining ones back. Sybbie looked back to her toys, the words were familiar, like 'Nanny', but the conversation was boring.

"She's so much more relaxed than our nanny ever was, my childhood wasn't anything like Sybbie's," Mary mused, holding Georges tiny foot which bopped and kicked her leg. He was eager to get back to the toys, or probably jealous that Sybbie now had them all. Mary recalled that her childhood was full of structure and begrudging not seeing her parents enough. She wondered if more love from her parents would have made her more maternal. Like Tom, whom she didn't doubt was much loved in his childhood, she too would be able to fawn over her sons every movement.

"Nor mine, God knows," Tom said, adjusting the weight on his shoulder to his hand as he sat up from the floor and being careful not to disturb Sybbie. Mary wouldn't ask him what he meant by that so not to insult him. Under the surface, they were still very different and she had only glimpsed once into the world that he came from and that seemed a lifetime ago.

"Do you think she's having a good childhood?" she asked. Tom's head snapped up, wondering if she was making fun of him. "That we're doing well?"

"I think you're doing your best for her, if that's what you mean,"

He knew exactly what she meant. She was asking if he thought they loved her, that they cherished her as much as George. She was asking if she was giving Sybbie all the love of a mother that she deserved.

"It isn't quite,"

Both looked away, the moment becoming very awkward. Tom laid back on his side, reaching for the flimsy wooden toy shelter.

"Oh! I think it's time for the hurricane!" Tom announced to Sybbie, changing the subject.

He began to move the shelter that they had made together, Sybbie staring at it. She watched it fall and topple over, knocking the animals fall with it. He made a noise, sounding like wind blowing through the structure.

"Uh oh," Sybbie sighed.

"Uh oh!" Tom mirrored, chuckling at her deadpan voice. He started to collect the fallen toys, bringing them back within Sybbie's reach. Mary smiled too. She had seen Tom play with the children many times and he had such a talent for keeping them entertained. He didn't seem embarrassed to enjoy the children's games, or to laugh with them as they played. Mary knew that she wouldn't be comfortable doing that. She would be too self conscious, wondering if those around her thought her silly. She could never speak in the 'baby' voices that Tom used to speak to the children or be as affectionate as he was. He would always hug them, smile and kiss them whereas she was a bit more restrained in her love. She couldn't help but think that Matthew would be like that, showering his children and his niece with love. She regretted asking Tom about Sybbie's childhood, as she realised that Tom was doing all for George. She was told that he had spent many days with little George after he was born, getting Sybbie used to the idea of a baby joining her. That was until Nanny West came and, without saying the exact words, told him to never touch his nephew again. Mary looked down at George, smiling as he was staring at where the structure once stood.

"Play Geord'! Play," Sybbie ordered.

He began to squirm in Mary's lap, wanting to be let down.

"Ahh, little lad wants to play," Tom smiled, standing to take him from Mary. "Give him here, we'll get the little car out I got for you," The little boy squealed and babbled grabbing onto his uncles shoulder, and Tom repeated 'car', trying in vain for him to say the word. He sighed and shook his head, chuckling. He lightly pinched the boy's chubby cheek, "Don't worry lad, you'll get the hang of it one day,"

Small tears began to well in Mary's eyes as she watched Tom and George. The boys had moved to the toy chest, looking for the tiny cars together. Sybbie, bored of her game, looked around for her father. She stared at the two adults and she wondered why all the attention was on George. Murmuring to herself, she heard her aunt sniff, hoping to hide the tears. But when her niece toddled over with a trembling lip wanting to cry too, some of them fell.

"Sad," Sybbie stated, patting her aunts knee. Mary nodded, stroking the girls curls. Her palm ran over the lump of knots around the bow and Mary frowned.

"Oh darling, that must hurt," she whispered. She gently untied the blue ribbon, letting her blonde curls relax.

"Better," Sybbie nodded, resting her cheek against Mary's knee.

"Who's sad? What's-" he turned. "Mary? What's wrong?"

She waved her hand, dismissing anything wrong but he was already handing George back to her, and fetching a clean handkerchief for her. Before he could give it to Mary, Sybbie grabbed it, reaching and straining up to dab away the tears, but she was just too small.

"You're a darling," Mary chuckled, taking the hanky from her and doing the job herself. "Thank you,"

Tom knelt beside her, rubbing her shoulder and letting her cry. He just sat in silence as Sybbie and George talked nonsense to one another, waiting for Mary to recover.

"What cause this?" he whispered.

"Oh its-"

The door opened, and a pile of clothing with legs walked through the door. Tom moved away from the chair, not wanting to cause rumour. The children's Nanny was a young girl, she couldn't be older than thirty. Her clothes were crumpled and the apron was slightly stained with milk and soaked in baby food, even her hair was out of place with the rush of chasing the children and the stresses of the difficult laundry load.

"Mr Branson, the clothes weren't quite ready so I-Oh!" she began, but as soon as she put down the clothing she noticed Lady Mary. "I'm sorry milady, I didn't realise-"

"It's no bother," Mary smiled, though it was completely strained. It was a mask she had perfected over the years but she knew that Tom had learnt that all masks are penetrable. She felt him slowly sigh, regret and guilt seeming to plague him. She turned her attention back to Nanny, who was trying to be as discreet as she could in tidying her appearance. The silence stretched out between the adults, George still babbling and Sybbie talking herself through a game.

"Why don't I take the children out for a walk? Just to give them some air and Miss Sybbie a chance to run around before dinner." Nanny offered.

"That's a good idea," Tom smiled, before cooing to Sybbie, "Do you want to get your coat on for a walk, darling?"

"Yeah!" she cheered, standing to toddle over to the coat stand. George began to laugh, wondering what all the excitement was about. The parents and nanny readied their children for their walk, both Mary and Tom promising that they would join them soon. As tom reached for Sybbie coat, she stood, trained and alert, with her arms outstretched to the sides, allowing her father to place the coat on her without any fuss. It alarmed him a how aware she was of the world around her. She had no doubt seen her grandfather , Mary, even, shockingly so, himself do the exact same thing for someone to put on or take off their coats.

"T'ank you Pa," she squealed. It was rare that her father got to come out on a walk with her. That too alarmed him, but he was distracted by his blue thoughts by Georges wails and his feet kicking out as Mary struggled to keep the boy still to put on his jumper.

"Please George!" she uttered, dodging his hits. Even with Nanny holding his legs and trying to soothe him, he wasn't impressed. Eventually the jumper and coat were on and with both pairs of outer shoes tied and fastened to both pairs of little feet, the children were taken from the room.

"We'll see you down there," Tom reassured Nanny, who looked to be at her wits end. She nodded, letting the door close behind her.

"Maybe I should go now," Mary made for the door, wanting to escape before it closed.

"No!" Tom said, shutting the door before she would get to it, his palm still flat against it. Mary stared at him, shocked and slightly scared. IT wasn't him he was afraid of, it was his questions.

"Let go of this door," she threatened quietly. "Right now,"

He did, but she still couldn't get to the door. His body was angled so that if she tried it, the door was hit him first. Though a tempting choice, it could hit him hard enough to hurt him, Mary sighed, retreating back to the arm chair. She just sat, looking out of the window.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "But I can't let you go without asking you why."

"Why do you have to know at all?"

"Because I know that you used to sit in a similar chair, in a similar way for hours, just staring out of the window hoping for his car to come up the driveway."

Mary, again, just stared. How did he know so much? Was he really that perceptive? She needed to be careful around him. Yes, she had confided in him plenty of times, he was whom she cried upon when she first heard the news - as much of a shock to him as it was for everyone else. She chuckled, nervous for the answer to his question.

"And how do you know that? I never said-"

He sighed, thrusting his hands into his pockets. Mary had noticed that it was a defensive method he had developed. Whenever he had to talk about anything that pained him, his chin would fall, his shoulders would hunch slightly and his hands would go right into his pockets. "You don't have to. You don't think I don't look out the window sometimes and expect to see Sybil walking down the driveway after a shift or an errand?"

She nodded. Of course he would. Even she had done that a few times, she would see a woman walking outside and for a fleeting moment, it was Sybil alas it never was. It was either a maid or Nanny or one of the gardeners.

"What got you so upset?" he asked. "And don't say nothing, you know I know you better than that,"

"Alright," she agreed with reluctance. "You see, I keep having this dream and the way you were playing with George just then reminded me of it. We're all in here: You and I, Sybil and Matthew... the babies. We're just playing on the floor with them. Well, Sybil is with Sybbie, you and Matthew sit on the bed; you hide toys from Sybbie, poor thing, but she knows it's you two every time..." A wistful smile appeared on her face as she spoke the idyllic scene. "I am sat here with George but he wants to crawl... and he crawls over to you and Matthew. He wants to sit with the other boys, it seems. You pick him up and place him between the two of you and when he starts to fuss, you call him 'my little lad'..." he voice begins to reduce to nothing more than a whisper and she feels a hand take hers. Tom squeezes her hand, urging her to continue. She chuckles, "Matthew says 'Careful, no wonder that poor boy gets so confused when I call him that,' and you, of course, are your usual self and say that 'he is of course your boy, but he loves me better,'"

Tom laughed, nodding in agreement.

"Sybil - I see in my dream - is having another baby and she reassures Matthew that 'if the baby is a boy, he can cuddle and coddle him as much as he wants,'"

She heard Tom choke, tears starting to well up in his eyes.

"Another baby..." he whispered.

"Yes," She smiled. Her expression resembled how she used to be, soft and kind, not that she wasn't now but Tom could see that this daydream set her emotions free. "Sometimes the little boy is there. He's lovely... all the children are. Even my-"

She stood, snatching her hand away as it ghosted over her stomach. Pacing to the window, the children were doing an excellent job of running from Nanny; the poor girls hair was falling out her hat, the hat itself was nearly falling from her head and her hand tried to keep it there but Sybbie's insistence on playing chase wasn't making it any easier. She had somehow gotten out of her coat and Nanny was wrestling to get it back on her.

"We'd better go down. Sybbie has escaped her coat and- and now she's fallen over," Mary said, now composed.

The little girls cries could no doubt be heard and echoed throughout the house, and it wouldn't be before too long the others would come to see what the problem was. Tom nodded, his movements jerky as he didn't know whether to open the door or to go to Mary. He just hovered, in his own awkward way.

"Thank you,"

"She looks like she's-"

"No, thank you for telling me." he clarified. "What was wrong."

She looked down, though her head didn't droop. She faced him fully, she jittering and fidgeting as he did.

"I miss them. I cant help it. I miss the person I used to be when they were alive. The loving and happy person I was with Matthew even the interfering elder sister to Sybil. You know, I'm beginning to forget her voice. In my dreams, I mean. It's slipping and she doesn't sound right anymore. I miss the life that would be here instead-"

"Instead of putting up with me?"

"No! Not at all. Don't be silly." She saw him smirk and she cursed herself for falling for it. "You are wicked." Tom chuckled, agreeing with her. "Besides, you know full well that it is you that puts up with us, no matter what Papa says or otherwise." Mary looked back out at the children, now under control again, her heart seizing at the image of the other children fading. "I am trying to be someone good for Sybbie, as much of a mother as I can - whatever that is to her - just as you are trying to be good with George, truly I am, but since.."

"I know. You're still healing. As am I but as for the voices... there will be some conversations that I will never forget. They way they sounded, its imprinted and I know that there will be some that are the same for you too-"

"Tom? Mary?" a voice called outside the door. They shifted, hearts jolting. Tom gestured to the door and they both left in silence, the conversation locked in the room behind them. Barely looking at one another and hands and arms kept firm by sides or behinds backs, they turned to the stairs to see Cora putting on her coat.

"Da!" Sybbie shouted, almost demanded from downstairs. Cora huffed, smiling.

"There you are, poor Nanny's been waiting here for a while, where did you go?"

"We were in the nursery tidying up." Tom rushed towards his daughters outreached arms. He swung her over his head then resting her on his hip, "You were quite messy today." He assessed the apparent 'broken knee', which his daughter pleaded, and concluded she was fine, rubbing it gently better.

Coats and hats were bought over promptly and the parents were ready to go.

"You go ahead Mama, Tom and I just want to arranged the children's dinners,"

Tom was startled by this request but he didn't let it show. He smiled and Cora left, completely unaware.

"We are?"

She gave him a knowing look, pulling on her stubborn glove which refused to tie.

"I don't want what we talked about coming up in front of Mama-"

"Do you really think I'd do that? You know me better than that Mary."

"I know, I just don't want Mama to worry, or to think that I've gone back somehow. I am better than I was but... well you know. A lot of things remind me of Matthew and I can't fight that."

"You're not going back, as you put it, by missing them. I can assure you that, and once you're missing them with a smile rather than a tear, then you know that you are past pain,"

She smiled, "Good advice,"

"My Ma says that, and I think it's true,"

"But even now, I see that you're sad when anyone talks about Sybil,"

"I know, then I'm not past the pain yet," he nodded. "And I won't be for a very long time,"

She hummed, "Sometimes I underestimate how much strength you must have had then."

High pitched squeals and baby laughter drifted in from the outside, calling them. Closing the front door behind them, and taking their places as hand holder and pram pusher, Tom murmured,

"One things certain, they have definitely made the pain worth it,"


End file.
